The Japanese attacked Midway Island in June 1942.
They were were soundly defeated a defeat that was later considered
the turning point in the Pacific War. Japan lost a large portion of
their fleet from which they never really recovered. But, in the early
part of 1943, we were not aware of this as we were escortied a convoy
of ships to Midway Atoll from Pearl Harbor - a distance of approximately
1,000 miles. We had several troop transports in our convoy
bringing replacement Marines to relieve those who had done such a
wonderful job in protecting and defending the island.
While the Troop Transports and the Supply ships
were unloading at Midway Island, we did patrol duty just outside
the channel opening to the lagoon in the middle of this Atoll.
Our duty was to prevent enemy submarines from entering the channel.
The channel opening was rather narrow and reefs surrounded the
entire Atoll. While on this patrol, a typhoon approached. Typhoons
in the Pacific are almost a daily occurrence so we knew it would
be rough but not as |
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bad as happened this time. The winds and rain were terrific. The captain
kept the bow of our ship directly facing the winds and rain. Our powerful
diesel twin engines were at full speed actually "flank speed"
in nautical terms. The winds and rain were winning! We were being
blown back toward the reefs. We were all at our battle stations, but
this was a struggle that we were losing and losing fast. Our ship
hit the reefs with tremendous sounds from the ripping and tearing
off of four-inch propeller drive shafts, steering gear, and underwater
equipment such as sonar heads, etc. Gapping holes appeared in the
hull. We are sinking fast, but, fortunately for us, we settled down
between two reefs which acted almost like a cradle holding
our ship upright with the main deck barely clear of the water. Luck
was with us!
After the rains and winds passed over, inspection crews come out
to examine our ship. They felt that it was salvageable. They might
not have if escort ships were not in such dire need. Some of the
holes were patched with concrete but our propellers, steering gear
and sonar equipment were either completely ripped off or very badly
damaged. After about a week of sitting in our
Reef. Picture courtesy Univ. of Missouri-Rolla
Click the image for a larger view
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"cradle," it is decided
to pull us off the reefs as they really wanted and needed to
save this ship. We were too firmly attached to the reefs for
one tug so we had a large one in front of us and a smaller one
attached to the aft. They were alternately tugging at us in
an effort to free us. All of a sudden, the ship broke loose
and lunged forward. Unfortunately, the smaller tug aft was sideways
to our ship, so the sudden movement turned the smaller tug over
and sank it. There were three men onboard the tug. Men from
our ship dove into the reef filled waters and swam to the tug
hoping to rescue the men. They were able to rescue two of the
men, but the third drowned and was never found. The larger tug
was able to pull us out into the channel and then into open
and deeper waters. We were, of course, powerless to get underway
as we had no props, no steering gear, and no sonar. As the saying
goes, we were dead in the water. |
One of the troop transports had completed its mission at Midway
and was ordered back to Pearl Harbor. It was decided to tie us to
it and let the troop transport tow us back for repair. Another patrol
craft was assigned to accompany us. After a couple of days in tow,
the transport signaled us that their sonar had picked up a signal
indicating the possible presence of an enemy submarine. They notified
us that they would have to cut us loose and increase their speed
and "zig zag" to avoid the submarine threat. We then witnessed
an axe coming down on that big three-inch hemp rope that held us
tethered to the transport. I will never forget that feeling of being
separated from that ship. We had a tremendous sinking feeling watching
our host ship pass out of sight, slowly fading away over the horizon.
The troop transport told us before they left that they would take
a sighting of our location and pass it on to Pearl so they could
send an ocean-going tug back for us.
Fortunately, the seas were smooth, if only for a short time. The
calmness of the sea helped our comfort tremendously. But we are
just sitting there - going wherever the tide, winds and waves took
us. We spent our days watching the horizon hoping to see that ocean-going
tug coming after as - but no such luck! Days, then weeks, went by
with no tug in sight nothing coming to our rescue.
We were fortunate in one thing. Our generators
were not damaged so we had electricity down in the sleeping
quarters. The desalination water treatment machinery was still
working well so we were able to convert salt water into fresh
water - for drinking and cooking only. Our food supply, to our
dismay, was getting dangerously low. There was not a Kroger
grocery store any where in sight. Fortunately, we had a really
talented Carpenters Mate aboard who could make almost anything.
He made fish hooks from wire so we began fishing for our survival.
We had wonderful luck; the fish were mostly poisonous though
we did have an ample supply of salmon and Pacific red fish.
Each of these fish were about four to five feet long so a little
more than one fish would feed our crew of 64. Sometimes when
it took more than one fish to make a meal, we had fish as our
salad, fish as our main course, fish as our side |
This is an original picture of the
USS P.C. 590 breaking up under the rogue sea and winds of
Typhoon Louise. The site of the picture is out from Buckner's
Bay, Okinawa Island. This picture was taken by a Photographer
on the U.S.S. Mona Island, ARG-9, Internal Combustion Engine
Repair Ship. Commander John B. Payne, USNR, now retired, was
Commanding Officer of the Mona Island. The Mona Island came
to the rescue of the men and officers of the U.S.S. P.C. 590
just minutes before the P.C. 590 broke in half and sank.
Click the image
for a larger view .
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dishes, and believe it or not, we had fish for dessert. So those beautiful
fish were not only tasty but provided and sustained life for us under
the circumstances. Weeks continued to pass and still no ocean-going
tug. I began to worry that we would soon float into Tokyo Bay. I suspected
the Japanese wouldn't give us a ticker- tape parade down their Fifth
Avenue!
During long hours watching the horizon, I began to reflect on how
I managed to get myself lost in the middle of the Pacific. On the
morning of December 7, 1941, my family and I had just come in from
church and had one of my Mother's spectacular Sunday dinners. We
were living in Clarksdale, Mississippi. I had recently completed
my study in accounting at Bowling Green Business University, Bowling
Green, Kentucky and was temporarily living with my parents and siblings.
After that lunch, we were listening to the radio when the news was
announced that Japan had struck Pearl Harbor in Oahu, Hawaii. We
were, of course, in complete shock over this most disturbing news.
I was born on July 15, 1920 so I was about 21 years old and a prime
candidate for the draft into the U.S. Army. Now I just love the
U.S. Army, but for some reason I just did not want to be a foot
soldier. I wanted to be one of those cute sailor boys. So early
the next morning, December 8, 1941, I borrowed my Dad's car and
drove to Memphis, Tennessee (about 75 miles) to join the United
States Navy. When I arrived, there was a line of young men about
four or five blocks long waiting to enter the Federal building to
join the Navy. I could not believe what I was seeing so I followed
the line into the building to make sure this was the "sign
up" line for the Navy and not a line of folks waiting to pay
more income taxes - or something. In the process of walking down
those marble halls staring at that line of candidates I encountered
a "Sandwich Sign" that was in the middle of the hallway
with a picture of Uncle Sam pointing and saying "I Want You."
I was still looking at the line and ran into that sign and sent
it crashing to that marble floor. It scared me as much as it did
anyone. I was down on my knees trying to correct my blunder when
I noticed a uniformed Navy Officer staring down at me. I did not
know whether to stand up and salute or just die on the spot - or
both. But he reached down and helped me stand the sign back up and
asked if I were there to join the Navy. I told him I was, but that
long line was kind of turning me off. He said: "Have you given
any thought to joining the United States Coast Guard?" I said
no and that I had never even heard of this it. I asked him if joining
the Coast Guard would keep me from being drafted into the Army.
He assured me it would, So I enlisted in the Coast Guard - they
had no line and I was the only one there. I was subsequently called
to active duty on February 4, 1942.
I was sent to New York City and assigned to what was to become
the Manhattan Beach Coast Guard Training Center but presently it
was a summer beach facility on the shores of Sheepshead Bay in Brooklyn,
N.Y. They had no uniforms for us but that didn't stop them from
giving me a hammer with instructions to start tearing down bath
house cubicles to make way for the construction of the training
center. I had been told when I enlisted that when I reported for
active duty I was to wear "something nice" and not look
like a "Hippie." So I had bought a brand-new suit, overcoat,
shirt and tie and new shoes . . . I didn't look nice long doing
this kind of work.
After doing this for about a month, an officer came to our unit
one day and asked if anyone played a musical instrument. I had been
told to never volunteer for anything while in the military, but
I reluctantly raised my hand and announced that I played a piccolo
in my high school band. He instructed me to follow him. I still
did not have a uniform, so on my subway trip down to the district
office, my tattered and torn "new" clothes gave me have
the appearance of one of New York's finest dressed bums, but a new
Coast Guard Band uniform awaited me at the office. So now I was
a member of the United States Coast Guard Military Band. We played
on the stages of all of the major theaters in New York City, including
Radio City Music Hall and the Metropolitan Opera House. Our purpose
was to encourage more enlistments in the U.S. Coast Guard. So now
I was rubbing elbows with High Society instead of those rusty nails
in those bathhouses. We had a class act but began attracting professional
musicians who wanted to spend their military time in the Coast Guard
Band. I just had the feeling that this country boy's days of playing
High Society were about to come to a close. So the day came when
I was informed that I would have to compete with one of these professional
musicians for the one and only piccolo in the band. When I found
out who my competition would be, I merely surrendered my piccolo
to him and bowed out of the picture.
This is another picture taken from the Mona Island.
Click the image for a larger view
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In 1942, Mr. Walter Chrysler, of
automobile fame, sold his mansion and estate on Long Island
to the government for the expressed purpose of making it into
the Merchant Marine Academy. All other branches of the military
had academies for training their officers, but the Merchant
Marines had none. So I was assigned to Mr. Chrysler's kitchen
where I had the fabulous job of washing dishes for the crew
making the conversion. So now I was washing dishes.Yesterday
I was in |
high society playing and even singing at the Met. - look at me now.
After a short period of doing this and having that feeling that I
was contributing nothing to the war effort, I noticed an ad in the
Coast Guard Magazine where a Yeoman 3rd Class was needed desperately
aboard a P.C. boat in New Orleans, La. I didn't know what a yeoman
was nor even what a P.C. boat was. Nevertheless I called the District
Coast Guard Office in midtown New York and told them I was very much
interested in this assignment - but I was not a yeoman. They were
pleased and said not to worry about not being a yeoman. They would
make me one over the phone, and they didn't know what a P.C. Boat
was either. Being in New Orleans and closer to home was another attraction
for the assignment. My orders arrived that same day, and I was on
my way to New Orleans to become a crew member of this ship.
There was a delay in my ship's arrival in New Orleans but when
it did arrive, I was shocked to see that it was 173 feet long and
30 feet wide which was much larger than the row boat I was expecting.
After the mask was set and the ship tested and loaded with food
and supplies, we took off from New Orleans to Cuba, then to Key
West where we took on our depth charges, then to Miami for our ammunition
and fire power, then through the Panama Canal, San Diego and on
to Pearl Harbor. Of course, I have now learned all about P.C. boats.
P.C. stands for Patrol Craft and it is not a boat but a ship. The
P.C. ship is the only new ship design created by the Navy for World
War II. Approximately 369 P.C. Ships were manufactured but during
and after the war, all were either lost at sea, damaged, scrapped,
or given to other countries. Two years after the war ended none
were in the inventory of Navy ships. My P.C. ship was grounded and
broke in half as the result of typhoon Louise that hit Okinawa in
1945. It met its demise on the reefs surrounding this island. Sound
familiar? The primary purpose of the P.C. is for escort duty to
relieve the destroyers so they can be more active in the fighting
and combat arena. We not only have the fighting power for anti-aircraft
warfare but fighting power for anti-submarine warfare as well. We
have two 3" 50mm caliber mounted guns, three 20mm antiaircraft
guns, and two large depth charge racks in the tail section of the
ship. Enemy aircraft and submarines, should beware of us.
We began our protective escort duties by escorting large convoys
of battleships, supply ships, tankers, troop transports, landing
craft, LST's, etc. to the various battle areas in the South Pacific.
We are on the outside fringes of the convoys "pinging"
for stalking enemy submarines and ready for an air attack. The PC
ships are known to be the roughest ships to sail on in the entire
fleet -- rolling and pitching almost constantly. We put in for flight
pay and submarine pay as we would literally sail through the air
as we came off one of those horrendous waves and plunge underwater
as we dove into the next oncoming wave. In climbing ladders (steps)
on the ship, we would have to time our steps with the pitch and
roll of the ship. It was impossible to stand still on deck and thank
goodness for those life lines. If you bruise easily from banging
against bulkheads and rails, a P.C. is not for you. We had no fresh
water to shower with so we were real sailors and smelled the part.
Of course, seasickness abounded. Although we were a small ship,
we were one big fighting machine. So, for almost two years I spent
life aboard this ship, and can proudly say that during that period
we never lost one ship we were escorting. Our anti-aircraft guns
were kept busy, and we were fortunate we did not blow ourselves
up with the dropping of those highly explosive depth charges. I
was a gunner on the No. 1 20mm gun on the Flying Bridge of the ship
and as such was the first one to get to fire at an attacking aircraft.
Ironically, I had never fired any kind of weapon in my life until
I was shooting at Japanese aircraft aboard my ship. I did not have
any boot camp training. I was too busy tearing down bathhouses,
playing high society with the Coast Guard Band, and washing all
of those dishes at the Merchant Marine Academy!
There were seven children in my family - six boys and one girl.
Five of us served in different branches of the Armed Forces. My
Dad was a farmer in the Mississippi Delta and served as County Agricultural
Agent for Coahoma County, Mississippi. As farmers, we grew up in
the country. We kids would often invite our school friends out over
the weekend to play. Some would want to bring their BB guns or sling
shots but my Dad would not allow any guns, not even BB guns or sling
shots on the place for fear that one of us would shoot the other.
Any gun, whether real or play, had to be checked at the "Saloon
Door," so to speak. Since I received no training in firearms
when I was growing up, shooting at the Japanese was my first time
to fire a gun. I made sure, however, that the Japanese did not know
that.
Back in the 1943 Pacific, a number of us were on deck still looking
for that tug boat and praying that we didn't spot Tokyo Bay on the
horizon. All of a sudden, a submarine surfaced along side! We were
scared to death as we just knew it was a Japanese sub, but it was
American - what a relief! They raised their American flag and I
think it was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen! Before recognizing
it, we had all been scrambling to our battle stations. Fortunately,
we saw who they were before any shots were fired.
The Captain of the Submarine told our captain that they had
been observing us for a day and we appeared to be dead in
the water. They had already been to Tokyo Bay sinking some
ships on their way. They were now on their way back to Pearl
Harbor. Of course, we told them our sad tale of woe. They
said they could not tarry long as they could be spotted by
a Japanese aircraft but before leaving, they broke radio silence
and called Pearl Harbor and gave them our location, wind speeds,
tides, etc. so the tug would know this time in which direction
we may drift. In a matter of just three or four days, our
dream came true - on the horizon was that ocean going tug
heading directly to us. Talk about being happy, there were
64 really happy men aboard that ship. This is the very same
ocean-going tug boat that had looked for us earlier but could
not locate or find us. The Pacific Ocean is truly a big place.
So we were dramatically rescued and towed back to Pearl Harbor.
The Commandant for the Hawaiian District ordered that all
64 men of our ship go to the Submarine Rest and Relaxation
Center (more
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This is an Official Dispatch of the United States Coast Guard
notifying all units of the death and Memorial Services for
President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.
Click the image for a larger view
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commonly known as the Royal Hawaiian Hotel) for recuperation
it was one lavish and beautiful place. Within a week time, our ship
had two new propeller shafts, new screws, new sonar and we were even
better than before. So within ten days, we were back escorting ships
and convoys to all parts of the Pacific - Guadalcanal, Tarawa, Midway,
Wake, Bouganville, etc.
So ends my tale of our Drifting At Sea episode. Bill Barnes Written:
March 16, 2005